One Thousand Years of Sunshine
by Lainey12
Summary: Being dead is much different than you think it will be. It gives one a whole new kind of unwanted but intruiging perspective.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This just sort of came to me. I'm sorry in advance.

**Warnings: **ANGST. Major character death.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee. Damnit. Or anything else for that matter.

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Kurt's hand was on his…begging? To do what? Open his eyes? He was trying, Kurt! He was trying so hard! Please, stop crying, baby. I'm here. I just…I can't get them to open. I'm so tired, Kurt. I love you, Kurt. I think I'll take a nap now. I'll see you when I wake up, baby. But I'm just so tired. I love you.

"_No, Blaine! Please! Open your eyes for me!"_ He heard, as if underwater. Kurt was crying so hard. He had to open his eyes. Kurt needed him. Kurt was so scared, he could just feel it. Blaine forced his eyes open, seeing his beautiful boyfriend a weeping mess. He tried to reach out and cup the other boy's chin, but his arm wasn't working right.

"Kurt," Blaine smiled at him.

"_Oh my god, Blaine! Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, keep your eyes open, please! Please don't leave me, I need you! I can't live without you, don't leave me alone!" _Kurt leaned in, inches from Blaine's face, tears swimming in his pretty eyes. Gosh, Kurt's eyes. They were the most perfect thing in the world. Full of innocence, trust, love. Right now, they were sad and panicked. It made Blaine very sad to him so upset.

"I won't ever leave you, Kurt." Blaine breathed. His chest hurt so much. His view of Kurt was blurring. His eyes weren't obeying. "I need to go for now, Kurt." Blaine whispered, every part of him positively screaming in pain.

"_No! Please! Blaine_…" Kurt sobbed brokenly.

"I love you, Kurt," Blaine said, barely more than a breathy whisper. He wasn't sure Kurt had even heard him before his eyes had closed for a final time.

Being dead is something that no one really thinks about. Unless you're religious and have some idea of afterlife, where there are one thousand years of sunshine and daisies or something. Blaine smiled, somewhat bitterly. If only they knew. Heaven wasn't real. Heaven was a joke. As far as he could tell, being dead was endless torture. Emotional torture, obviously. As far as the physical went, he felt better than he ever had. Or maybe it was worse. He hadn't quite pinned it down yet.

He felt…light. Airy. Like the smallest gust of wind would blow him away. He was neither warm nor cool. He just _was. _It felt like a combination of free and bondage. It was such an oxymoron. Maybe that's what he was now; just an oxymoron?

But he had to be more, didn't he? He could still think. He still made choices. He still _ached. _His heart felt like this big, empty place. A place that used to be filled with song and nothing but love for the perfect boy that had changed his life.

He first realized he was dead when he opened his eyes. The last thing he remembered was the screaming, the searing pain in his chest, and _Kurt._

When he managed to sit up, he realized that something was very different. He could see the world around him, but it was like he wasn't a part of it. He felt so separate. Everything seemed to still have color, but it was all covered with the same gray stain. Blaine closed his eyes and shook his head, hoping the gray would fade.

He was disappointed when he opened his eyes again.

Blaine looked around, trying to get his bearings. Was this Heaven? Or perhaps, Hell? Was this the condemnation he was supposed to receive for being gay? Being stuck in Perpetual Grayville? He thought with a smile. He glanced across the street, shocked that he recognized Kurt's car. It was parked outside the funeral home.

Oh my god. It was his funeral. He didn't know how he knew. He just sort of…sensed it? It was a strange feeling. He moved to run across the street, but found he didn't have to. As soon as he desired to be there, he was _there. _He was standing in the back of the room. It was full to bursting with people. The Warblers. The New Directions. His family. Teachers. Acquaintances whose names he couldn't recall. But none of that mattered. He was seeking Kurt.

He couldn't feel him. It must be another thing about being dead. He could _feel _everyone around him, like, their mind? Not that he was reading it, but…he could tell who was who without even looking. He could hear their tone, even without them speaking.

He then felt like the world had been rent apart beneath his feet. The pain that ripped through his chest was overwhelming. He dropped to his knees, crying out as he wrapped his arms around his chest. Whatever was making him feel like he was dying for the second time was coming from his right. He managed to blink the pain from his eyes to look up.

He froze. Not because of the pain. Not because of the utter absurdity of his situation. But because it was _Kurt._ He wasn't bathed in gray like the rest of the world. If anything, he was positively glowing, vibrant with color. Like he was the sun. It was no different than Blaine saw him when he lived, but this was different. Everything would always pale in comparison to Kurt, but now? He looked to Blaine how he always deserved to look to the rest of the world.

But what was this never ending pain in his chest? He watched as Kurt moved to the second row, behind his parents and brother. Was this how Kurt was feeling? Was this Kurt's mind? Was this Kurt's heart? This was beyond tears. Blaine moved to stand next to Kurt. He was right. There were no tears. But there was a haunted look to his eyes. One that Blaine thought belonged to someone a lifetime older than his breathtaking boyfriend. But somehow, his terrible sadness seemed to enhance his beauty, if it was possible.

How was this real? Was he in a coma or something, and this was just an elaborate dream? _Please God. Let this be the worst nightmare of my life. I will give anything, anything for this to be a dream. Please, God. I can't handle him hurting this way. Help me. God? Do you exist? Please. Let this be a nightmare, I'm begging you. _

Blaine could feel everyone's sadness. But Kurt's was like a white-hot feeling. Everything was intensified. Or was it? Was this actually what Kurt was feeling? _God, help me. Help him. _

Kurt sat and listened as a preacher talked about Blaine moving on to a better place and all that. Not one tear rolled down his wan cheek, but Kurt, very subtlely, curled in against Burt's side. Finn was on his other side, tears thick on his cheeks, clinging to Kurt's hand. Blaine felt his ghost-heart breaking into the smallest pieces. It was like dust. Blaine sat on the floor, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch Kurt. But he didn't know if he would just go through him or not, and he didn't think he could handle not feeling his skin, not being able to provide the comfort he so desperately needed.

"And now, Blaine's best friend and boyfriend would like to say a few words. Kurt?" The preacher beckoned. Blaine watched as Kurt stood, moving gracefully to the podium. Blaine moved with him, hardly able to bear being more than mere inches away.

"H-Hello." Kurt said, voice wavering slightly. "I'm Kurt. I'm Blaine's boyfriend." Blaine felt a shift in the air. He managed to tear his eyes away from Kurt for but a moment to look back at the crowd. The few remaining dry eyes were now wet. He didn't care much, though. He pulled his gaze back to Kurt.

"Blaine was this…this amazing person. There really aren't words for him. None that would properly do him justice, anyway. He was always bouncy, moving from person to person, spreading enthusiasm like it was going out of style." There was a watery chuckle coming from behind him. Kurt still managed to make others happy, even when what he himself was feeling felt was worse than it had felt to die.

"He never stopped singing. I can't tell you how many times I…" Kurt trailed off and looked down at the podium, seeming to hold back tears. "I can't tell you how often he was changing his iPod to something new, something different. Always Top 40, though." That earned a small laugh from New Directions, The Warblers, and Blaine himself.

"Blaine lived in a constant climate of music. One that, quite literally, redirected my life." A tear trickled out of Kurt's eye, but his voice didn't waver. "He had a hard time expressing how he felt through talking. So he did it in song. And…I can't think of a better way to honor the man that saved my life in more ways than one…then to do it in song. Gentlemen?" The Warblers stood and gathered behind Kurt as the familiar strains of Teenage Dream poured from the piano.

Kurt sang along, voice quieter than usual, more subdued. It broke Blaine even more. This perfect man in front of him was born to stand out. And now he was trying to blend in. This was killing him. As the final note faded into the air, The Warblers took their seats. Kurt stepped back up to the podium.

"I…" Kurt spoke, voice shaking now. "I'll…I'll never…." Kurt stopped then, a sob breaking through his lips. "I'll never be able to listen to Katy Perry again," Kurt's voice breaking on every other word. He leaned forward and clung to the podium as he sobbed. Rachel was already there, pulling him into her much smaller embrace. Kurt leaned into her as she whispered in his ear.

Blaine thought that if he hadn't been dead before, he would surely be dead now. Nothing in the world was worse than this. This was Hell. Blaine was sure of it. He wanted to run. He had to. He couldn't be here. But he couldn't walk away from Kurt, either. He moved behind Kurt and Rachel, and took a chance. If his hand went right through him, it would hurt Blaine. If it didn't, and gave Kurt some kind of comfort, it would be worth whatever it cost Blaine.

He reached out, ever so slowly, and felt his hand encounter the softest of silky skin on the back of Kurt's neck. He felt the goose bumps erupt on his boyfriend's flesh, and the sobs immediately slowed. Encouraged, Blaine wrapped his ghostly body around the two of them, feeling like the sun had come out again when he felt them both relax a little. Kurt wiped his eyes and went back to the microphone, still clinging to Rachel's hand.

"Blaine and I love Wicked. The first time we sang this song together, I remember promising myself that I'd never let go of that feeling. Something so pure and perfect isn't something that you want to let go of…Like I'll never let go of Blaine. Ever. This is for you, Blaine, honey."

Kurt and Rachel launched into 'For Good,' And by the end, everyone was singing along. Blaine only had ears for Kurt. He was hugging him from behind, not being able to get enough of the feel of him, and the heady rush that calming his lover gave him.

At the end of the song, Kurt and Rachel were both in tears. New Directions sang 'Keep Holding On,' followed by a tearful speech from his mother. He held her, too, almost able to smell faint traces of her favorite perfume that Blaine never remembered the name of.

As the service came to a close, Blaine was exhausted. Did ghosts sleep? Was he a ghost? He didn't care. He just wanted to attach himself to Kurt and never go away, like a stubborn freckle or something.

Kurt had finally dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs again, and was immediately swallowed by Finn and Burt. Both of them were crying, too. Their tears were more for Kurt than himself, but he didn't care. They knew Kurt was hurting and felt so lost. Blaine was glad Kurt had them, though. Blaine wanted to move forward into the embrace and comfort Kurt again, but he simply couldn't. He was dead on his feet, pun not intended. He felt himself sway on the spot.

Blaine fell backward, as if in slow motion, into soft warmth. Was he sleeping? Did ghosts sleep? This was so confusing. Blaine felt himself drift into a sort of relaxation. Not quite sleep, but not awake, either. All he wanted was Kurt. KurtKurtKurtKurt. As he drifted in a sea of quiet calm, he let his mind rest on the bright light that shined out of Kurt in his new world. He took comfort in the knowledge that Kurt really had been his soul mate. But sadness again, knowing he wouldn't ever be able to share a life with him; at least, not the way he had originally intended.

Blaine decided that he would find Kurt as soon as he woke up from this weird non-sleep-but-relaxing-time and just hold onto him for hours and ours and hours.

Kurt promised to never let go of him. Blaine inwardly swore to himself that he wouldn't let go, either.

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**A/N: **This story is still in its infancy, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Tell me what you think? Reviews = oxygen. Off to go hide under the sofa now.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Upon returning from my stint under the sofa, I discovered…A review! And story alerts! You guys are the best :) Also, I'm not really sure where this is going to go, but keep in mind: Alerts/reviews generally mean quicker updates. Its super motivating, yo. Also, reviews tend to mean longer stories, so….let me know!

Much love!

-Lainey :)

When Blaine opened his eyes, he wasn't quite sure where he was. The gray was really throwing him off. He had never _really _appreciated color before. Ah, regrets. After he gathered himself and his thoughts, he realized where he was.

Looking up at the large manor home, he tried to relax. This was his house. His parents were in there. Cooper was in there. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this. Seeing his mom at his funeral had been different. He had the lure of Kurt, shining into his darkness. Now, his mom's overwhelming love would be all around him.

Blaine looked around, hoping for some big neon sign, telling him which way to get back to normalcy; which way to life, and love, and homework, and curfews, and Kurt. Alas, there was none. And he was here. So maybe, there was something he needed to see. Or do. Or not do. Blaine took a step forward, and was shocked to find that he was instantly inside. It was kind of trippy.

The house was spotless, as always. He moved from room to room, taking everything in. He could feel his mom up the stairs, and knew he had dithered about much too long. It was time for him to see her. He made his way up, up, up. He paused outside his bedroom door. It was pulled closed. He passed it by; he spent his life in there. He didn't think it would be any cooler in death. Perhaps interesting to observe from the outside in? Maybe another day.

Blaine slid through the cracked door of his parents' room, tiptoeing along, forgetting that no one could see him, or hear him. He saw her, sitting in her beautiful window seat. The one where she and Blaine had told so many fairy tales, whispered jokes and shared nervous dreams. It was where Blaine had told her he was gay. It was where she had held him after his father denied him. It was also where Blaine had first told her he was in love; in love with the most perfect boy in the world, and he felt so unbelievably full of joy that he was sure to burst! She had cried then, and pulled him into her lap like she did when he was young, and told him how happy she was for him.

And now, the window seat was where she sat, framed by the setting sun. With all of the gray, Blaine was convinced that she could have been a star from Hollywood's Golden Age. She was so beautiful. Almost tragically so, terribly trapped in her own sadness. Blaine could feel her heart. It was such a pain that he never wanted anyone to feel. As Blaine moved forward to attempt to siphon off her sadness, he saw it.

The single tear on her too-pale cheek, the red eyes from which it had rolled, and the _tie. _She was holding the Dalton tie he'd secretly loved tightly in her hand, her knuckles white. The rest of her body was still, the picture of somber serenity. But her fist gave her away. She clung to that tie as if it were Blaine.

And to her, it was all she had left. Blaine closed his eyes, knowing that if he still possessed the ability to cry, he would be sobbing. As he took a step closer, he heard her voice. But it came through a fog. Intrigued, Blaine looked up. Her lips weren't moving. Was he hearing her thoughts?

Way creepy. And somehow equally freaking cool.

"_I can't believe you're gone. I don't think there are words, baby. Baby boy. Precious little baby. I need you. Who will I talk to when I fight with your father? Who will play for me when I'm feeling low? No one can make this right, Blaine. No one. I need this to be right. To be better. I need this to be the worst nightmare of my life. Please God. Let this be a nightmare?" _

Blaine took a step back, overcome with a rush of affection for his mother. And somewhat of a shock at the similarities in their begging of a God they didn't believe in to let this all be a nightmare. He was so like her in so many ways.

"Hannah?" Came his father's quiet voice. She didn't turn to look, but Blaine did. His father stood in the doorway of the bedroom, eyes nearly swollen shut. Had his father cried for him? He had never seen his father cry. Was this real? This so couldn't be real.

"Mmm?" She acknowledged. His father moved into the room, placing a hand on her back. She shrugged it off and continued staring out of the window.

"Please don't shut me out, Hannah?" He asked. Begged. How strange. His father never asked for anything. He demanded. He heavily suggested. But never asked. And never in his life had begged.

"What? You mean like you did to me and my baby?" Hannah asked, venom dripping from every syllable as she looked with an anger that would have quelled a more cowardly man.

"Hannah, stop, please?" Jonathan begged. "You're acting like you're the only one who lost him. And you aren't. Coop and I, and even Kurt-" Hannah flew off the window seat and started punching every inch of Jonathan she could reach.

"Don't you DARE talk about Kurt! Don't you DARE! You hated what Kurt meant! You hated that he was everything to Blaine! You HATED him! And now Blaine's gone, and I'll never see him married to that boy! He deserved love, John! And not just from me! He DESERVED it from YOU! And you were so caught up in Blaine being GAY that you didn't get to watch him FALL for that BOY! And now…now…now…" Hannah trailed off, her weak punches turning into clawing at John, needing him to hold her. They sank onto the floor together, John rocking Hannah as she ruined his shirt with salt water.

"I know, Hannah. I've been a terrible father. You don't think I regret it all even more? You think that doesn't make it harder?" John asked, not a hint of condescension. Just speaking what was on his mind without a trace of anger. "You got to watch him grow into a man. Into an amazing, talented, loving man. And I didn't. And that's all on me. I wish I had been a better father. I wish Blaine knew that I loved him to the moon and back and then some. But he never will. And that's…That's my fault." His father broke, then. He was sobbing into Hannah's hair while they just held each other, rocking back and forth, trying to soothe the incomparable hurt they would always carry in their heart for the loss of their baby.

Blaine watched the exchange with what could best be described as horror in his eyes. He had see his father raging, had seen him drunk and mean, had seen him in every degree of polite as well as rude…But this? Breaking down, talking about regrets and how much he loved Blaine? Who was this man, and what cave was his father currently trapped in?

Hannah turned in John's arms and pressed a needy kiss to his lips. John jumped, startled, but kissed her back hungrily. Blaine grimaced and made his way to the door. He knew sex was a part of grief and all, but, dead or not…parents having sex was gross. Glad that it meant a healthier, happier marriage, but still. Ew, man. Freaking Ew.

Blaine moved down the stairs, trying to feel Cooper. He felt a pull to the backyard, and was immediately there. He was starting to dig the instant teleportation thing. Sort of bad ass.

He was under the treehouse that Blaine had fallen out of when he was seven and broke his arm. Staring up at it, he could feel Coop. His was just replaying in his mind the time that he had walked in on Kurt and Blaine in a heated make-out session, and laughing sadly at the memory of Blaine's horrified face. Blaine smiled a little, knowing that f anyone would find humor in this situation, it was Cooper. Blaine decided to move on. Cooper was strong. He didn't need Blaine. He would always miss him and love him with his whole self. But Cooper was always a lone wolf.

Blaine looked around the yard, feeling less and less like he belonged there the longer he looked. It depressed him, in a way. How could he not belong where he grew up? But the answer came to him almost immediately. His whole life had led him to Kurt. Kurt was his home. Not some big structure which housed his things! Kurt. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the momentary sensation of moving. When he opened his eyes again, he was looking at the Hudson-Hummel home.

"Well, hello, Blaine." Came a serene, beautiful voice that mirrored Kurt's in tone and pitch. He turned to look, shocked at the woman standing next to him. She stared up at the house, not looking at him. "I wondered when you'd be here."

Blaine stared, open mouthed and speechless. There was only one person whom this could be.

"M-Mrs…Mrs. Hummel?"

**A/N: **I know, I'm a horrible person, I'm sorry! *Not really sorry because cliffhanger, yay!* Ahem. But anywho….More Klaine to come, I promise! *Klaine to come….hahaha. Sorry. I couldn't stop myelf* Anyway, more Klaine and some explanations for Blaine's future. Being, maybe? Do ghosty-afterlife-people-things have futures? *shrug* On to the reviews? Please? Give my life meaning?


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **You guessed it. I'm not Ryan Murphy or Fox. So I don't own Glee. If I did, it would be Klaine. Klaine duets. Klaine kisses. And Klaine sex. The end.

**Warnings: **Major character death, Angst, feels, and dead people walking but in a not-scary-at-all-way-because-I'm-a-super-chicken

**A/N: **GUYS. The reviews and story alerts…I can't even tell you how nice it is to come home to them. It warms my heart that this shy, quiet, and decidedly nerdy girl has people who actually want to hear what I have to say. **read what I write? Shrugggg** You have no idea! To answer many a question, we will find out how Blaine dies….eventually. Even dead people go on paths of self-discovery (or Blaine does. Because this is fanfic.) Anyways, now that I've spoken too much…ON TO THE STORY! :D

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Blaine stared at the woman who was so like Kurt, and wondered. Kurt had only been eight when she passed away. But the way she carried herself, that little quirk of her mouth, the wide eyes full of love, kindness, and a terrible sadness ill-befitting someone as beautiful as her…It was all Kurt.

_How many times could one heart break before one was driven mad by it_, wondered Blaine.

"Hello, Blaine. I wish I could say it was nice to meet you, but frankly, under the circumstances, I rather would have preferred that we stayed strangers until about ninety years from now." Blaine was rooted to the spot. The woman's tone was unbelievably and completely Kurt's. Everything in his life had come down to Kurt. It now appeared that everything would come down to him in death as well.

"Mrs. Hummel…Have you any idea…" Blaine trailed off, unsure how to ask such a seemingly personal question.

"The amount of similarities that my son and I share?" She asked, eyes alighting with that teasing air that Kurt used on him every day. Blaine just nodded. She laughed, a laugh that Blaine felt in his bones. It wasn't happy. It was something more akin to depression and acceptance, all mixed together in a ridiculous combination.

"I have watched him grow more and more like me through the years that I haven't been able to be an active participant in raising him, yes. I never realized how like me he is until Burt realizes. People are unaware of the way they hold their bodies, the way they react to stress, that sort of thing. Burt knows those things about me. He spent years learning them. And every time something hits him, like the way Kurt's eyes go wide and his lips turn down in a semi-frown when he's surprised, I feel it." Blaine listened to her voice, losing himself in the far-off, dreamlike quality it had.

The two of them stood, side by side, staring up at the house. Blaine felt neither desperate to go inside to see Kurt nor a desire to stay here with his mother. He just _felt. _It was a rather strange and unwelcome thing. He always knew he wanted to do something. This unsureness was mostly foreign. Granted, he had his moments, but he always came to himself eventually. But he had no desire to. This being dead thing was really throwing him for a loop.

"What can we do?" Blaine asked, helplessness flooding him, making him take on a sort of apathy that he wasn't fond of.

"Be here," she said, taking Blaine's hand and lacing their fingers together. Her hands were cool and smooth, relaxing him instantly. Just like her son.

"How?" He questioned, even now feeling Kurt's despair in every breath, in every heartbeat. He wanted, needed to know how to stop him from feeling this way. Kurt was his eternal bright spot, and no bright spot had any business feeling this way. Blaine was determined to fix it.

"Like you did at the funeral. Hold him. But not too often." Blaine was taken aback.

"Why can't I hold him all the time?" Blaine demanded, hoping he didn't sound too much like an insolent child.

"Kurt is still human, darling. If you go round, constantly attached to him, you're depriving him of feeling the way he should feel. He still needs to grow, Blaine. People grow from their experiences." Blaine mulled it over for a moment.

"I don't want him to forget about me," Blaine admitted, in a voice so small and frightened that he was surprised. But it didn't make it any less true.

"Oh, Blaine," Mrs. Hummel said, releasing his hand and pulling him into her arms instead, holding him tightly. "The way you and Kurt love…It is permanent. It is a love with _such_ permanence that it isn't something that just _stops. _It's the kind of love that changes you fundamentally at your core. The way the two of you share love is quite the rare thing. You shared so much of yourselves that it won't ever be clear where one of you ends and the other begins. Kurt won't forget about you, Blaine. He can't." Blaine was clinging to her, holding her perhaps too tightly, but he didn't care. He felt wetness in his eyes, surprised that he could still cry.

"But…What if he wants to?" Blaine asked, confiding his deepest of all fear into this woman that he both didn't know, and somehow knew very well.

"There will come a time when he will beg of a god that he doesn't trust or believe in to reverse time, perhaps. To back before he knew you, maybe. That will be out of the pain he is going to endure. It will never be true. But fear not. For one to truly feel the wonder and purity of love, one must know pain in equal measure. Or that is my understanding. And Kurt will never want to _unknow _you, Blaine. When you came into his life, you brought the belief, the _knowledge _that he mattered. You swept in and gave him your heart and showed him that not all fairy tales have to be make-believe." Blaine let go of her then, suddenly full of desire to be next to Kurt.

"Can we?" He asked, not needing to finish the sentence. She seemed to read him just as Kurt did. She smiled at him, taking his hand once more. They were suddenly in the living room of the Hudson-Hummel home, and Blaine was nearly knocked off balance by the sheer weight of pure grief that seemed to thicken the very air they were breathing.

Burt and Carole were on the couch; Carole snuggled under Burt's arm. The television was off, silence hanging like a forgotten promise, like words left unsaid. Blaine's eyes were wet once again.

"How do I fix it?" Burt asked, broken. "He was happy for the first time, Carole. Really happy. And now…" Burt trailed off, tears rolling down his cheeks, overwhelmed by the heartbreak of his son.

"We've all three lost people, Burt. It isn't fair." Carole said thickly. There was a slight disturbance in the air, and Blaine looked up as he saw who could only be Finn's father, appearing right behind Carole, just looking on sadly. He said nothing. He nodded in their direction before leaning against the wall across the room, just closing his eyes.

"Is this how it works, then?" Blaine asked. "Anytime they hurt…we hurt?"

"Yes." Carole and Finn's father said together. They shared a look of grim understanding.

"What is it like…" Blaine trailed off, absolutely sure he was about to ask the hardest question he would ever ask of anyone in all his existence. "To watch them love someone else?"

Mrs. Hummel moved to Burt, almost unaware that she was doing so. When she was within arms reach of him, she stopped to face Blaine.

"It will the best, and most difficult thing you can imagine." She said. Well, that certainly cleared that up.

"What do you mean? And is it worse than I feel right now? How do I prepare myself for it?" Blaine demanded. He wanted to be ready for the day.

"That's still a long way off, darling." She said. Then, Finn's father spoke.

"Kurt needs you. Go to him." Blaine didn't need telling twice. He suddenly found himself in Kurt's room. He just looked for a moment, unsure of what seemed so different about the room. Nothing had changed. Nothing was out of place. Then, he saw Kurt sitting on the floor by his closet, and Blaine knew.

Nothing was different about the room except its occupant. Kurt, usually this never ending ray of witty, sarcastic, and beautiful light, was so drenched in such despair that Blaine was sure it was never going to end. Kurt had always been Blaine's star. More than that, he was Blaine's sun.

But looking on him now, hair disheveled, eyes swollen, wearing Blaine's Dalton hoodie and a pair of his ragged flannel pajama pants, Blaine knew that his sun had exploded. Sitting there with his arms around his knees, Kurt held all of terrible beauty of a dying star.

Blaine sat so near to him that he could touch him if he shifted. But he felt like this was a place that Kurt needed to feel on his own. Blaine wanted to reach out and feel the smoothness of his skin, to comfort, to cradle, to fix. Kurt wiped his eyes on his sleeve, and Blaine realized with a jolt that it must still smell like his cologne.

Kurt stood, moving with all the grace of a trained dancer to his bookshelf. Blaine stood and moved with him, unable to be more than a hair's bredth away from him.

Kurt reached out and gingerly touched the frame that held their prom picture, just with his fingertips. As his face crumpled, he grabbed the frame and threw it with all his might against the opposite wall. Kurt began pulling things off of his shelf, letting them all fall to the floor with an almighty crash. Within moments, Finn was pulling the door open. As he took in Kurt, destroying his possessions, Blaine moved to give him room.

Finn came purposely forward and moved behind Kurt, pulling his back against his much bigger chest, pinning his arms to his sides. Kurt struggled for a moment, thrashing and kicking his feet as his anguished sobs tore at the air, destroying what was left of Blaine's heart.

As Kurt's anger faded back into helplessness, he turned in Finn's arms, and Finn just held him. He said nothing, perhaps realizing that there was nothing he could say. If he said that it would be okay, it was a lie. How did he know? He didn't. If he said he was here for him, it wouldn't be enough. He would never be Blaine. If he told him they were all thinking about him, what did it matter? He would only want Blaine back, and none of them could do that for him, no matter how much they all wanted to. When Kurt's very loud sobs had faded into quiet sniffles and the occasional heartbreaking wail or hiccup, Finn carried him over to edge of his bed and sat down, Kurt in his lap, clinging to Finn for all he was worth.

"Rachel wanted to know if you were up for visitors. Everyone from glee wants to see you. The Warblers, too." Finn said, gently rocking Kurt. Blaine had never felt so useless in his life. He had to admit, though, Finn was doing well.

Kurt seemed to weigh the options for moment.

"I'm not…" Hiccup. "Ready f-for the W-Warblers." Hiccup, sniffle. "G-Glee c-can, though." Sniffle.

Finn sat Kurt down and moved to the edge of his bed and left, presumably to text the glee club to get themselves here. Kurt always retreated in on himself when he was sad. He didn't like to be around others. That he wanted company spoke volumes to Blaine. He was afraid to be alone.

Kurt fell back onto his pillows, spent. He turned his face over into them, drying his tears while simultaneously inhaling their comforting scent. A light knock on the door broke his reverie.

"Come in," Kurt croaked, voice raw.

"Hey, Kurt," Rachel said, leading the way in, followed by the rest of New Directions, all in varying degrees of depression.

"Rachel," Kurt said, voice high, thin and reedy, reaching out to her. She immediately climbed up the bed into Kurt's arms, and they just held each other. Artie and Sam hovered by the door, unsure of what t say, or do. Mercedes, Quinn, and Tina followed Rachel's lead and climbed up on the bed, each comfortingly rubbing Kurt's shoulder, arms, knee. Brittany and Santana stood by the window, hands interlocked, both staring at the floor. Neither knew what exactly to say. They both wondered what right they had to be happy when Kurt was miserable.

Puck and Mike saw the damage that Kurt had inflicted on his belongings. The two silently moved around the room, putting things on shelves, sure they were all in the wrong places. When Mike found the bent picture frame with glass shattered, he held it out wordlessly to Puck. Puck took it and looked down at it, his eyes filling with angry tears as he pocketed the photo.

"Kurt?" Puck asked, and Kurt looked up, never letting go of Rachel. "I just…I…" He wasn't sure what he was trying to say, or how it would help, but he had to say something. "This isn't okay. Its not fair." As a tear finally made its way down Puck's cheek, the atmosphere shifted in the room. Puck had cried, sure. But never in front of Glee. Kurt simply looked on in shock along with everyone else. As Quinn moved to hug Puck, he bolted out of the room. No one followed.

"What can we do, Kurt?" Rachel begged. "How do we help?" Blaine was hanging on her every word. He had been asking himself this question for what felt like six million hours, and he was desperate to hear the answer.

"No one…No one ever told me it would be this hard. Why didn't anyone warn me that it would be like this?" Kurt asked no one in particular. "It was hard, when mom died. Even harder when I thought…my dad…But this?" No one seemed to be breathing.

"I knew I was leaving for New York, that Blaine was going to be hundreds of miles away, not able to hold me, or comfort me. But…dead." Everyone had moved to the bed now, all of them needing the support of their family for the pain of the loss of one of their own. Everyone was huddled close, each needing to try and lessen Kurt's loneliness.

"Why didn't anyone tell me it was this hard?" Kurt said, head falling over onto Rachel's shoulder. She quietly rocked him. Everyone was crying now.

Blaine was horrified. This was the worst thing ever. There was not a thing that he could do for these people who had quickly become the support system he'd never had. They were all hurting so much, and yet it still didn't touch how Kurt was feeling. Empty wasn't right. Hurt felt woefully small and not even close to being able to describe it. Lost was closer. Lost was it. He was drifting on a sea of despair so complete that it rendered him speechless, and he couldn't even find it within himself to care.

"I'm so sorry," Santana said, voice thick, without a hint of the sarcasm she always had right under the surface.

"I just want him here," Kurt said through his tears.

"I'm here, baby, I'm here! I swear, I'm never going to leave you. Please, hear me. Please, feel it. I love you so much, please!" Blaine sat at the foot of the bed, rocking himself. He cried at the top of his voice, not caring who heard him.

Then, he remembered no one could hear him. So he cried louder.

* * *

**A/N: **Sometimes, I hate myself. Other times, I write shit that literally has me sobbing into my pillow at 3:48 am. Let me know what you think?

Also, much thanks to Casey for her shameless plug. Let's hope she holds true to her words and FREAKING UPDATES HER FIC BECAUSE REALLY. I love her freaking fic. I also love you guys and your reviews, and truly appreciate that you are reading this. It means the world to me.

-Lainey


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: Sorry guys! Things got a little hectic in real life. I had a trip to prepare for. A trip in which I saw Team Starkid. Live. At the House of Blues. In Los Angeles. And also met them. So. Good reason to miss an update? Forgiven? No?

What if I told you I was right against the stage and got a high five from Darren? Would that make it better? One would hope so. Anywho, on to the story!

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Glee, as per the usual. But the things I would do to own Darren Criss are unspeakable.

**Warnings**: Major Character Death.

* * *

It was several hours later when New Directions had finally left. Burt had come in to check on Kurt several times, but finally, the house was quiet. Kurt was sleeping, though fitfully. Crying out and sniffling, saying his name, sounding strangled.

Blaine could do nothing but lie so close he could almost feel Kurt's body heat radiating into him, warming him to his very soul. He wanted to reach out and touch the velvet skin that was much too delicate to belong to anything less than an angel. Blaine snuggled closer, knowing that he was doing nothing but torturing himself, when it happened.

Kurt's eyes, beautiful, wide, innocent, and full of sleep, looked directly into his own. Blaine's heart stopped in his very chest. Kurt was looking at him. Into him. Not through him, not past him. Looking at him.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered, voice garbled by sleep.

"Kurt?" Blaine breathed out, not sure at this point how he had managed to make a sound.

"You're here," Kurt said in a voice so soaked with relief that it tore at the edges of Blaine's heart. He felt it at his core. Kurt reached out to pull Blaine closer, and his heart started to race. Would Kurt be able to touch him? Would he be able to touch Kurt? Had this all been an elaborate nightmare he'd had after falling asleep at Kurt's house?

No such luck.

Kurt's hand stopped right above Blaine's waist, and then he flew up into a sitting position, screaming. Blaine rocketed up onto his knees, trying to hold Kurt, to calm him, to relax him.

"_Baby, no, its okay, I swear, its okay!" _Blaine yelled, but to no avail. Kurt's door crashed open, slamming into the wall as Kurt's scream continued, loud and so full of agony that Blaine thought the very shreds of his being beginning to unravel.

Burt launched himself onto Kurt's bed and pulled him close, stifling his screams into Burt's shirt. He seemed unable to stop them ripping from his lungs. As Burt rocked him, the screaming continued. Finn and Carole stood in the doorway, clinging to each other, unsure what to do.

"Shh, Kurt, Shhh. Dad's here. I'm here for you, son. I love you, Kurt. Daddy's here, baby. I love you, Shhhh," Burt whispered into Kurt's ear, rocking him all the while.

Blaine stood back, waiting, _begging_ for a second sort of death. The kind of death that would make him unable to feel. Unable to ache. Unable to see the pain, feel the pain of loved ones. This was the kind of hell no one told you about. This was the worst thing. Blaine thought bitterly that being in the ground, unable to know what as going on above him would be better than this. Hell, never having met Kurt would be better than this.

As Kurt's wails faded into sobs, he began to babble.

"Dad. Dad. I saw him, I swear, Dad." Burt rocked.

"He was there, next to me. His eyes, Daddy. His eyes." Burt rocked.

"He looked so sad, Daddy. So sad. I needed to hold him." Burt rocked.

"Haunted, Daddy. He looked haunted." Burt rocked.

"I was going to hold him. But then…" Burt rocked.

"I realized he wasn't there." But rocked. Kurt sobbed himself into sleep, yet again, and this time, Burt didn't leave. Once Kurt was settled under his covers, Burt crawled in next to him, ready to comfort if another 'nightmare' were to occur.

Kurt had seen him. Admittedly, it had scared him into hysteria, but he had _seen _him. Did he want Blaine to be alive so badly that he was breaking through the barrier? Was that the key?

"Blaine?" Whispered a soft voice that he would always respond to, dead or not. He turned to the sound, afraid of approaching in case he brought on another round of weeping. He hated it when he hurt Kurt. He hated it even more when there was nothing he could do to make it right.

"I can't see you. But I think…I think you're here. Is that even possible?" The tears came unbidden, and Blaine hovered by the window. "Are you here? I need to know. Please?" Blaine said nothing, did nothing. He wasn't sure if he should. How would Kurt ever be happy again if he was waiting around for signs that Blaine was there? No, he decided. It was better to do nothing.

"I don't know if you're not doing anything because you can't, or for some dumb noble reason. But I feel you. I think that's enough." As Kurt rolled over and pulled the blankets up closer around his neck, Blaine wondered if he was dreaming. Or if Kurt was dreaming. But of one thing Blaine was abundantly sure: The kind of love they shared would always get through anything.

Kurt seeing him, _feeling him_ wasn't enough for Blaine. For the moment, though, it was enough for Kurt. And Blaine would always go with what Kurt wanted. Beggars can't be choosers, after all.

* * *

A week after Blaine's death, Kurt was sitting at his laptop, trying to decide whether or not to change his relationship status on facebook. His cursor hovered over the option before he slammed the computer closed. A light knock on the slightly open door caught his attention, and Kurt turned as Burt entered.

"Hey, kid." Burt said, knowing how much pain Kurt was in, because he'd gone through it himself when Elizabeth had died. But for someone so young, who hadn't had the chance at a family, a life with whom they loved? How unfair.

"Hey dad," Kurt answered heavily.

"I know you're dealing with some stuff right now, but I was thinking…" He trailed off, unsure of what to do or say. He knew getting back to work had been the next step in getting through his own grief, but he didn't know if Kurt was ready.

"That I should get back to school if I'm up for it?" Kurt said dully, looking at the floor.

"If you're ready."

"I'll go back on Monday."

"Love you, kid."

"Love you." After Burt left, Kurt flipped off his light and crawled into bed. He pulled his phone to his ear and called his voicemail. Blaine appeared, sitting next to Kurt, close enough to hear the phone call.

"_Kuuuuuurt! Why aren't you answering your phone, Kuuuuuuuurt? Kuuuurt! I'm on my way to see you, Kuuuuurt! Kurt Kurt Kurt! And I was too excited about seeing you that I just HAD to call you, Kuuuuuurt! Kurt! Well…I'm on your street now. And this might be the most pointless message I've ever left anyone. Sorry about that. I'm pulling up outside! I'm going to see you in juuuust a minute! I love you Kurt! Forever! Now, I'm going to ring the doorbell! Bye, honey! I love you!"_

He replayed the voicemail.

Again.

And Again.

And Again. He played it until he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Blaine hated this. He hated every second of this horrible, horrible existence. He hated every moment that Kurt was hurting. He hated every second of lost sleep that caused dark purplish rings to form under Kurt's eyes. He hated everything that reminded Kurt of him. His beloved Kurt was living in a state of perpetual pain, and there was nothing he could do but watch.

What kind of cruel 'god' would allow this? Whose choice was it that he should be locked in a purgatory such as this? Because he had half a mind to write a strongly worded letter to someone.

He lay back next to Kurt, softly touching the limp strands of hair that he hadn't washed in three days. That Kurt seemed to not give a damn about his appearance was telling enough about his state of being, not to mention the lingering sadness.

It wasn't just the outside. Kurt always had a little ray inside of him, something almost magnetic, even when he was miserable, something that made you want to be near him, to reach out and just touch him. But this was something different. The light was gone. He was just a shell of a person now, and Blaine hated himself for being the cause.

* * *

When Monday rolled around, Kurt was ready before his alarm even went off, not having been able to fall asleep the night before. He was sitting at the kitchen table, pondering his cereal, but unable to eat.

"Ready, dude?" Finn asked nervously, interrupting his reverie.

"As I'll ever be," Kurt said, then followed Finn out to the car. The silence between them was deafening. Finn, unsure of what to say what words of comfort to offer. Kurt, not sure what to say to reassure Finn that he didn't need to worry about comforting him, because nothing would. Nothing could.

The day passed in a blur for Kurt. Either people were patting him on the back, offering condolences, or gawking openly. It wasn't every day people saw Kurt Hummel in loose fitting jeans and a plain t-shirt. Blaine's t-shirt, he realized with a jolt.

When it came time for Glee, Kurt sat in the back row, trying to make himself as invisible as possible. He didn't want attention. He just wanted to go back to bed. As the rest of the club slowly filtered in, Kurt kept his eyes locked on the floor.

"Okay, guys, I-" Mr. Shue began before quickly stopping himself. "Kurt," he said, surprise coloring his tone. "We didn't expect you back so soon."

"Can I sing something?" Kurt asked, still looking at the floor.

"Of course. The floor is yours," Mr. Schue said, sitting down. Kurt stood, knees shaking, and moved to the front of the class. Kurt lifted his eyes and looked around. Everyone was in varying degrees of sadness. Most still had red rings around their eyes.

"This is about things I've always wanted. And how everyone here has made me feel. About how…How Blaine made me feel. This is a goodbye," Kurt said before he opened his mouth to sing.

_Home, I've heard the word before,  
but it never meant much more  
than just a thing I've never had._

_A "place,"_  
_They say, "Hey, know your place!"_  
_But I've never had a place to even know,_  
_or a face that I could go to_  
_if I needed someone there..._

_I'm laughing_  
_it's hard to hide a smile_  
_My gosh, it's been a while_  
_since I have had a reason to._

_To think_  
_it's been here all along_  
_somewhere to belong,_  
_and a reason,_  
_a something-to-believe-in_

_I've finally found it,_  
_a place where I'm wanted..._  
_This must be how it feels to have a home_

_I used to dream about it_  
_but never schemed or counted_  
_on fantasies or wishes-_  
_it breaks a man to see what he misses_

_So many nights I'd pray_  
_for a better life, a better day_  
_but I never thought that it'd come true_  
_now that it's here, I don't know what to do_  
_and I'm trying not to cry_

_This must be how it feels_  
_to have a home_

_I've finally made it_  
_I've hoped and I've waited_  
_and for the first time in my life, I don't feel so alone_

_My heart starts to heal_  
_to know that it's real._  
_This is how it must feel_  
_to have a home!_

Kurt ended on a perfect note, and peered around at his classmates. Not one of them had dry eyes. Not even Mr. Schue.

"That was so moving, Kurt. Did you write that?" Quinn asked.

"No." Kurt said. "Blaine did." His voice broke.

"Wow. He was so talented, I never knew," whispered Santana miserably.

"Its also a goodbye." Kurt said, impatiently wiping away a tear.

"We all miss him too, Kurt," Tina said.

"This wasn't a goodbye to Blaine. I'm never saying goodbye to him. This was…A thank you to all of you. You all gave me a home when I didn't have one. And when I found this song, I realized that Blaine and I felt the exact same way about each other: That this feeling, the love we feel…felt…Is what it feels like to belong. To have a home in his heart." Blaine watched from the doorway, knowing what was coming, but powerless to stop it.

"I can't sing anymore."

"What! Kurt, no!" Rachel begged.

"It hurts too much, Rachel. I love you all, but I can't do it anymore. Music was Blaine's world. And it hurts."

Kurt turned and left, leaving a silently shocked room behind him.

As Blaine watched him go, he felt a weird sort of peace. He had lost the notebook that the song was written in. He must have left it at Kurt's. He had meant to sing it for him on their anniversary, but had forgotten. Hearing Kurt bring his music to life was amazing.

It was the first time since being dead that Blaine felt…alive. He felt a pull to Kurt, he had to go to him. He was headed to the cemetery. Feeling a terrible sort of peace tainted with sadness, he followed.

Kurt would sing again. He had to. Blaine wouldn't be able to feel peaceful when Kurt sang unless Kurt felt peaceful. If it could take his pain away, even a little bit, he was going to make sure he got him singing again.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry I'm not sorry?

Just an aside, I saw Darren's acoustic set at the House of Blues, then saw Apocalyptour on Thursday. If you watch the youtube videos, for the acoustic set, during Home…I yell something. Darren smiles. My life felt like it was over. So. Directly responsible for Darren Criss smiling? Bless America, okay? It was amazing. Go check it out?

Also, during Apocalyptour, I was in the front row. Darren gave me a high five. His hands are warm and calloused and just perfect and UGH.

Anywho, reviews mean quicker updates. Its super motivating to write if you know someone gives a damn about the story, so….Reviews – cookies. Let me know what you think?


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